


Off-world Cybertronian shareware

by Insecuriosity



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Other, Outsider's Perspective, POV Outsider, Prostitution, Public Nudity, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Worldbuilding, prosticube, simultronic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: Money makes the world go round, and even though every self-respecting alien HATES Cybertronians, there's something to be said for their money.Still, what do Cybertronians want, that they don't already have in abundance? The answer to that is; Interface. How do you sell interface when there are no Cybertronian whores? By getting creative.





	

Kaernk owned a bar. Somewhere at the edge of the Galactic Council borders, and right next to a mining operation, his establishment was the space-equivalent of a road-side restaurant. Almost all of what he offered was heavily preserved foods and common legal stimulants, meant to cater to as many different species as possible.  
Most of his stuff was meant for the miners, and the species that lived to closest to his station. Umtos, Edodites, ‘t-r’r’dsd…..

And Cybertronians. 

Yes, Cybertronians. Those war-hungry, immature bolt-buckets. The irresponsible founders of inter-spacial relations, the idiots leaving high tech weaponry with barely evolved monkeys – the million-years-old monstrosities that would just never. go. down.  
Hatred for their kind was commonplace, even this far out. There were too many planet that had been robbed blind by them, too many eco systems decimated. Even species that had never seen a Cybertronian oftentime owed their great misfortune to a Cybertronian relic or ship crashing on their hunk of rock. 

Even now that they had almost made themselves extinct, the appearance of a Cybertronian was like a time bomb. Eventually, SOMETHING would happen, and it would be the buildings, houses, and innocent people that would pay for it.  
And still, Kaernk and many other establishments still carried wares that only a Cybertronian could be interested in. 

Trading with them was technically illegal, but alas; even in a world of vacuum and war – money ran supreme. And it just so happened that Cybertronians were as much a disaster as they were a gold mine.  
They were impossible to kill, but their parts sold for insane amounts. If one happened to die on your doorstep, you were rich!  
Their credits were worthless, but the data-sticks on which those credits were stored were the most refined data-storage devices out there, to the point where they were rumoured to be more secure than most banks! Even their scrap could fetch high prices! Kaernk had heard that they could synthesise their own metal if given enough time and energy. Purer and stronger than anything you could find in asteroids!

At the end of the day, Cybertronians rarely left their stuff lying around anymore, unless they were dead. After the Galactic Council had begun to reverse engineer their weapons and technologies, the Cybertronians had started to keep their scrap to themselves.  
Most of the profit that could be made from a Cybertronian was thus in their currency. It was the easiest to obtain – and JUST common enough that you wouldn’t end up with someone trying to kill you for your newly acquired datastick. 

What was less fortunate, was that Cybertronians already had everything they wanted. Their fuel, or blood, or whatever it was, had been rare at one point, but the war had effectively culled so many Cybertronians that the remaining ones were swimming in the stuff.  
While drugs and stimulants sold very well, it was much like playing a game of roulette. If a junkie popped some Stims while still in your establishment, you’d be using all your profits to repair the damage they’d brought on you. Or in more extreme cases, the police would have to be called to scrape your remains off the wall. 

There was one thing that could safely be sold to Cybertronians though, and it was never what people expected. Kaernk had though it was a joke when he first heard of it. 

Cybertronians, apparently, were VERY much into sex-for-fun. It seemed so odd to Kaernk still– why would a species without gender or a need to procreate feel such a need to pleasure themselves? They didn’t even look like they had anything in the way of ‘equipment’.  
Maybe it had something to do with the origin of their species. If the Cybertronians were to be believed, even they did not know how they came into existence. Ideas ranged from being built by an ancient and dead race, to being called into life by an almight robotic god the size of a planet. 

Kaernk didn’t care. When someone had first brought up the subject of prostitution to Cybertronians, he had laughed. Even if it was the most profitable business regarding Cybertronians, what insane–stricken person would willing get one of those gluttenous death machines into their establishment? They all had million-year old grudges, and the robot-equivalents of complete insanity!  
He would have to track down a Cybertronian, an impossible task on its own, and then convince it to have sex for a living – with Kaernk as their pimp. Yea. It was never going to work. It was illegal within the Galactic Council anyway. 

Out of curiosity, he had asked why someone had broken the subject with him. Why try to show him the appeals of a useless endavour?  
That was when his conversational partner had shown him the box. 

It looked like a loose component, as if it’d been taken straight out of a crashed ship. Wires and cables of different sizes and with different plugs hung out at seemingly random angles, and one side of it was covered in a plethora of odd holes with soft edges. The corners had been outfitted with pieces of round armour of some kind. Someone had painted them in a vibrant red colour, and the whole thing had been polished to a sheen.  
As it turns out, the Cybertronian equivalent of pussy feels the exact same as fake pussy. No distinction between the two. Kaernk supposed it made sense, seeing how mechanical Transformers were. 

A very awkward examining of the goods later, Kaernk had agreed to place it in his bar. Judging by the relief on the hide of his associate, the guy was happy that someone had wanted to display it at all.  
It might not be illegal to have a Cybertronian sex toy, but the Galactic Council was unpredictable – especially when Cybertronians were involved. Kaernk wouldn’t put it past them to create a law JUST for this stupid box. 

Still, Kaernk was far enough at the edge of GC territory to try it out.  
He took the odd box, haggled for 65% of the profits, and bolted it to the floor in an innocuous corner. It was an odd fit with the rest of his bar, sure, but nobody suspected its purpose. It just looked like a weird art-project. With time, some people would play around with the jacks and cables, before Kaernk shoo’d them away. 

It was many months later that Kaernk had Cybertronian visitors, for the first time since acquiring the box. Word of mouth spread quickly through the station, and all the shop-owners were taking out the Cybertronian-specific wares that they normally kept under wraps.  
The Cybertronians spread through the space station, and the largest group went – predictably- to the largest café on the station. Kaernk wasn’t worried. His bar was less meant for groups, and more for friendless people looking to get absolutely fendered. 

And sure enough, one of the Cybertronians found his bar. He was gangly, blue, and had a single yellow light as a face. Even for a Cybertronian, he looked dangerous and aggressive, and Kaernk’s curiosity at seeing the box-prostitute at work immediately turned into trepidation. Oh, he really hoped that this thing would fuck off before it destroyed his bar…  
The Cybertronian glared and rustled at every customer he passed. Like some angry animal he bristled through the crowd, as if intentionally trying to get a barfight going. Knowing Cybertronian reputation, he probably was. 

The Cybertronian approached the bar, and chittered something that was unmistakably a filthy insult to the Ikunuk sitting on a barstool.

“…Can I help you?” Kaernk rushed to intervene before the Ikunuk could retaliate. 

“Do you have what it takes to bring down the unvincible mech?” The Cybertronian replied with a smarmy tone, and he raised a sharp claw to the ceiling. “Pf, you don’t need to answer that, Slimey, just give me whatever.”

“Credits first.” Kaernk had no desire to be scammed in an attempt to be polite. 

Predictably, the Cybertronian took affront. “I haven’t even seen your scrap yet, slimball!” His yellow lightbulb face narrowed into a thin strip of light, and Kaernk shuddered with unease. Cybertronians were the very definition of the uncanny valley. How could a machine look so stupidly alive-not-alive?! “Are you trying to cheat me, you lube-trail?”  
There was an ominous clicking sound, and Kaernk found his eyes drawn a little lower – to the gun turrets that were sticking out of the Cybertronian, pointing straight at Kaernk’s underbelly.

Placating manoeuvres alpha beta GO GO! 

“Of course not!” Kaernk said hurriedly. “I- I simply assumed you were asking for our er- special stock. Which is credits-first. Policy.”

The Cybertronian’s eye widened again, and the antennae on his head moved a little. “Oooooh… are you selling something illegal here?” He stage-whispered, and then he pulled Kaernk close. His sharp metal was uncomfortably warm, and Kaernk winced at the smell of dusty electronics wafting off him.  
“That certainly changes everything!” The Cybertronian sniggered. “What are you selling? Boosters? Weapon mods? Syk?”

“Er-” Kaernk struggled to remember which word the Cybertronians used to describe fornication. Was it… Help desking? Updating? “No, it’s a service, not goods –“

“Snuff?” The Cybertronian interrupted, and Kaernk had to squeeze his eyes shut at the bright yellow face that seemed to grow stronger every time he looked at it. “Protoform massages?”

“Ah, a little like that last one- but more like mating. Fornication. Can you let go of me?” Kaernk’s flesh was starting to sweat at the points where the Cybertronian was touching him.

“You got a prostibot here?” The Cybertronian’s tone was different now. Whereas before Kaernk suspected he had only come in here to make trouble, he now sounded genuinely interested. His metal also seemed to be growing even warmer. “Where!”

“It’s not a living Cybertronian, but an… emulation cube of sorts – there in the corner.” Kaernk pointed towards it, and the Cybertronian finally let him go in favour of looking at the box. 

“Oh, an interface box?” The Cybertronian’s antennea’s twitched. “Egh, I though you had something real! Those things aren’t even worth looking at.”  
Contrary to his words, the Cybertonian stood up and walked towards the partially hidden item. The patrons sitting near it quickly left their seats as he approached. Kaernk was just happy that the Cybertronian had let go of him. His skin was clammy and hot where it had been pressed up against the robot.

Kaernk watched as the Cybertronian’s claws prodded and pulled carelessly at the cables,wires, plugs and ports. It didn’t look too interested, right up until it found a set of specific wires. 

Where most of the cables were thick and insulated, these ones almost looked like flat thin earpieces on a wire. Kaernk had never found any sort of port or plug that could connect to that kind of wire, but the robot seemed to know what he was doing. He held it up to his yellow-lightbulb-face, and twisted it in the light. It was hard to make sure, but Kaernk thought that the Cybertronian looked… eager. Maybe even awed.  
Soon after, the disinterested prodding became a lot more enthused, and more careful. Kaernk felt a small shudder of disgust when the Cybertronian pulled a thin strand of lubricant from one of the holes. 

A few moments later, the Cybertronian was back at the bar. This time, waves of sickening heat straight up rolled of his body. “Heyyy, so how much was that thing again?”

Kaernk named a price that was higher than he had originally intended, just to privately spite the mech, and then he took the datastick that the Cybertronian pushed at him. “NO damaging it.”

“Buddy,” The Cybertronian exaggerated a nonchalant pose. “There is no way in the Pits that I’m gonna destroy the easiest piece of aft in the universe. Trust me.”

Then he walked off in the direction of the cube. Kaernk nodded to nobody, and quickly busied himself with the other patrons of his bar, and whatever other work needed to be done. Or rather, he tried to.  
His curiosity was a burning force- how exactly DID a Cybertronian do the deed? He doubted it would look the same as a sex act from his own species, and he honestly wondered where all those cables and plus would even go. As far as he was able to tell, a Cybertronian was metal from head to toe. 

Other patrons obviously shared his interest. Many eyes and sensors were subtly (and less subtly) aimed at the robot, standing in a corner with the glossy red cube.  
Kaernk had no idea if the Cybertronian cared that he was being watched or not. It could just be that he really didn’t notice how many people were watching him. The big claws picked out seemingly random wires and plugs, and then connected them to his body. He already had a ton of wires running between himself and the cube. Kaernk couldn’t see the ports where the Cybertronian was stuffing them, but they all stayed in place. He wondered if the robot interpreted the sensation as penetration or not. 

At the same time, the robot took out some wires of his own to connect to the cube. By the way he angled himself, and waved a claw RIGHT at Kaernk, Kaernk realised that the Cybertronian most certainly knew that he was being watched.  
Kaernk fought to keep looking. He refused to be embarrassed! Cybertronians were no organics. Their way of fornication looked about as interesting as plugging in a piece of new hardware to a personal computer! 

A soft ‘click – Vrrt’ proved him wrong.

The Cybertronian had reformed something of its body near the hips, and a remarkably organic-looking reproduction organ was sticking out. There was a rustle of noise through the bar, and the Cybertronian innocently turned in such a way that as many people as possible saw his … rod. 

Several of Kaernk’s patrons stood up and went for the doors. Kaernk didn’t blame them. If he’d known that Cybertronian sex involved emulating the genitalia from other species, he would have put a curtain around the blasted cube!  
…. It did explain the odd holes on the cube though. 

The Cybertronian tested a few of the holes with a claw, making a show of out if, and finally settled on a small pink-ish hole.  
Kaernk wondered if there was really any difference between the holes. He wouldn’t put it past the robot to draw it out just to make his patrons uncomfortable.

Finally, the Cybertronian seemed happy with his set-up. The very last thing he connected, where the odd flat wires that had made him so excited.  
A part of the Cybertronian’s head shifted, and the wires went straight onto vulnerable looking electronics. The cybertronian shuddered as the cube powered on, and its optic went off. Kaernk braced himself for noise and squelching – but the Cybertronian remained limp. 

Well, perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he would stay still and quiet right until the end! 

The Cybertronian moaned. 

Of course not. Kaernk squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

The Cybertronian’s claws stroked over the smooth sides of the cube, tickling at the spots where the wires disappeared inside, and Cybertronian dirty-talk began filling the silence of his bar, generously enriched with loud and guttural moans.  
When it started to gyrate its hips, adding the sound of wet lubricant and loud metal clashes, Kaernk lost the last bit of hope for a normal evening. 

A curtain around that damned cube was definitely not going to cut it. 

-

Whirl rejoined the Lost Light in a pleasant daze, his circuits still buzzing from his overload. Mecha in the hallway looked a little worried as he passed them, but Whirl could not care less.  
He had no idea who had made that interface cube, and how it’d found its way into some random bar, but it had definitely been worth the money. 

If he ever found the guy that had gotten the idea to outfit the thing with a Simultronic and a top class AI, he’d buy them a drink. Pit, he’d buy them a life time of drinks! 

The simultronic had been pre-set to a few different choices of ‘personalities’ and looks. Whirl had picked out a lovely red sleek mech, with the ‘Sweetspark’AI.  
Whirl loved how the cube’s red paint had been identical to that of the simulated Sweetspark. There were still those lovely red scuffmarks near his pelvic plating, and that _really_ helped the illusion of a good lay. 

Whirl had never really tried simultronics – it’d looked like a big waste of time, creds, and energy to him. Now that he’d tried it himself, he could see the appeal.  
If Sweetspark hadn’t been bolted down so thoroughly, he might have tried stealing him to keep for himself! 

Simultrons did more than just simulate a reality apparently. Someone’s deepest wishes and dreams aren’t that easy to make a generic fit for, and so Whirl had kind of expected it to be cheesy. Or just really generic.  
Instead, the wires must have gone straight through his brainmodule to find out exactly what made him tick. 

The surroundings had been in the old ship of the Wreckers. Always some form of bodily fluid streaked over the floors and walls, and dents from where fights had gotten rowdy…  
All the signs of a good fight had been in the simulation too. Welded lines over his frame, that slightly dopey edge from a pain dampener, and his guns so hot that he could feel their warmth all through his chest. 

He’d finally been back where he belonged… and there’d been a sexy-as-frag mech on his spike.

So all in all, the entire experience had been pretty damned amazing. Whirl would have wanted to stay there forever, but the cube had an inbuilt time limit. So, after getting the best overload he’d had in ages, he’d onlined on top of the cube, draped over it like a wet cleaning rag.  
He didn’t care that the longer side effects of the simultronic made him look like a brain-dead drunkard. Nor that he’d managed to drool all over himself in public. It’d been worth it. 

Whirl stumbled through the Lost Light, heading back to his room. He’d made a note on where he’d found this cube, so that he didn’t find more of them in other café’s he could come back to steal this one. 

Ah, what a great fantasy…

Whirl reached his room, and he let himself collapse as soon as he’d set one foot inside. Completely tuckered out, he fell into recharge.  
A few hours later, it was Magnus who carefully heaved Whirl’s legs inside of his room, before letting the sliding doors shut closed.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was spawned because I loved the idea of Whirl fragging a box. I also very much enjoy outsider perspective, so I mixed these two together, and by their power combined...!
> 
> Please do let me know what you think!


End file.
